


The Fall

by LinbeeH



Category: Jak and Daxter
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-09 21:16:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12896988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinbeeH/pseuds/LinbeeH
Summary: Falling is an art like any other practice makes perfect.





	The Fall

They fall, they fall hard. 

When Jak comes to he finds himself at the bottom of a mineshaft. Above him the sound of falling gravel and blackness.

How far had they fallen? He wonders.

Jak tries to move finding bruises from the fall, and an exploratory press of his chest shoots a sharp pain from his ribcage. Maybe a cracked rib, he was usually so careful he almost never fell. Daxter would make fun, probably ask his friend to write him into his will. Actually, he should probably be doing that now. 

One step at a time, over and over this mantra beats through Jak. He takes a deep breath, trying to ignore the pain. Surveying the damage is step one. Step two is finding Daxter. Three is finding a way back up.

The dust of the abandoned tunnel stirred into a frenzy by the chaos clouds in beams of light. Not enough to see by as the beams illuminate the bridge collapsed far above them. Around Jak is darkness, their lanterns snuffed out in the fall. He smells oil, and searching blindly finds one of the lamps. With its wind guard broken, but flint intact Jak searches the pockets of his belt for matches to start a weak light. 

He nearly drops the match when he spots Daxter for the first time. He must have hit his head in the fall because the first thing the dim light catches is red in the dirt under his orange friend. He gasps and fumbles closer, careful not to move Daxter before knowing where the bleeding's coming from. 

Before Jak can even check Daxter's breathing, he coughs, ragged throat clearing coughs. Then he moans.

"Ohhhh," and with that single long sound Jak lets out a sigh of relief. "My nose!" Daxter's small furry body crumples into a fetal position with his hand pinching the bridge of his bleeding nose. 

"My aching back, my head! My entire body feels like crap!" Daxter whines as Jak closes in to inspect the worst of it. "How did we fall? You never fall! I hope you're prepared to carry me back up there." 

Jak made a face at that, he had after all been prepared to carry Daxter just about everywhere for the past week and a half. One perk of being small. 

"What about you? Didya get hurt? Let me look at you," they check each other's eyes for concussions and satisfied begin making plans to ascend the distance. 

"Wow, what a crappy bridge. Might as well see if we can find anything down here since we already made the trip, hee hee." After that suggestion, Daxter claws up Jak's leg and torso to perch on his shoulder guard. Jak flinched away when Daxter grabbed his tunic near the pain in his ribcage, and Daxter recoiled from the spot.

"Sorry, buddy. Look a precursor orb! Maybe we can find some green eco down here and I can patch up my face without needing to ask the mold sage for help," Jak laughed in his silent way and shook his head. 

"Get you some eco too, look at those nasty bruises you got. Here let me look at your wrist," Jak obliged, holding up his arm to have it grabbed by little paws. "Yikes! This plus the pain in your chest. Looks like you hit every rock on the way down." 

Daxter shifted his weight a little uneasy before letting go of Jak's hand. They walked in the dark, Jak carrying the broken lantern careful to avoid any wind blowing out the flame. Suddenly Daxter reached his paw into Jak's hair and started scratching. 

"You, uh. When we fell you surrounded me and it worked for the most part! I mean... I didn't get very hurt. If that's what you were trying to do, uh..." Daxter trailed off and put his free hand to his mouth to chew at his claws. Daxter has always been a nailbiter, an anxious habit that carried over in the transformation. 

Sensing his friend's anxiety, Jak reached for Daxter's fur. Landing a small calloused hand over Daxter's flank. Daxter sighed at that, taking his hand out from between his teeth to rest on top of Jak's.

"Thanks for the save buddy," Daxter leaned onto the side of Jak's head, taking the hand with him to create something of a hug. Jak nodded, smiling to himself while trying to return the gesture. 

"We'll get back up there."

-

They fall from the sky and crash land in Haven City. A world of oceans and deserts, and they still manage to touch down in the most desolate of places. 

The day they arrive is such a loud, angry memory for Daxter. Chaos and tunnels of light, the green sage's advice for Jak still ringing in his dreams months later. 

"Find yourself Jak!"

Daxter finds Jak. While working as an exterminator for a man named Osmo, Daxter finds out where Jak is being held, how to get in, and how to get out. Two years of searching, and completely by chance Daxter spots Jak in a prison zoomer. Things snowball from there.

With the help of a woman named, Taryn Daxter prepares a safe house to get Jak to on the first night. With her background in construction Taryn's able to find an abandoned property, with no owner, and even better no neighbors. She's been a real help with Daxter's extermination business, fixing up and modding out his equipment in exchange for a few favors here and there. 

When Daxter first asked for Taryn's help finding a place to hide someone from the krimson guards she didn't ask questions. Instead telling him about a few places that might work. She secured a safe house and accepted an IOU as trade. All and all the whole exchange is a lot less painful than Daxter worried. In the days leading to the prison break, Daxter meets with Taryn to get the final details about the place.

"There's a regular guard patrol that cuts through that area once a week, but it's soft security and you shouldn't have trouble avoiding them. The doors have locks, and you'll have the only set of keys. I've got a guy discretely turning the water back on for the whole block, now that won't last, but you'll have a few days of running water at least. 

"Maybe it's none of my business, Daxter, but you're going through a lot of trouble for your friend here. You sure it's worth the risk?" 

Daxter should laugh, he knows that'd be the cautious thing to do, just laugh off the question. Assure her she's got nothing to worry about, act like harboring fugitives is a regular habit of his.

"He's all I got," is what he says instead. Taryn's surprised by his answer and crouches down to give him the keys to the safe house.

"That's not true, Daxter. You've got Ozmo and his weird kid, and for what it's worth you've got me too." She straightens up to look down on him, "When you get your friend out I expect to meet him."

"It's a date, sugar."

-

In the years since their separation, Daxter has been able to save up quite a nest egg, living on little and sleeping wherever was dry and warm. Enough to support Jak for a few months in Haven city at the very least. 

It's not until the day before the prison break that Daxter realizes he's forgotten something important, and retrospectively obvious. Borrowing his boss's zoomer, Betsy he drives himself to the market district to buy clothes for Jak to change into. It's harder to hide a convict when said convict still wears his prison uniform. 

Going in, Daxter knew what he was looking for. Pants with enough fastens to account for a range of body types and sizes. A tunic with the same specifications, but the old familiar blue he hoped Jak would appreciate. He found an old leather belt with pockets and a pouch that rests on your thigh. Thick, sturdy gloves for the man who climbs everything.

Daxter had to guess Jak's shoe size. He was most worried about the boots, they didn't wear them growing up except for special occasions, but they were a basic requirement of big city living. From broken bottles to metal shrapnel, and unidentifiable ooze, Haven streets really had it all. 

Jak's goggles were another story entirely. They fell off in the abduction, and some scavenger snagged them. It was petty, but two years is a long time and eventually, Daxter tracked them down to a pawn shop in the slums. He wanted it to be worth it, imagined being able to give them to Jak. 

To say, "Here you go, buddy. I'm sorry it took me two years, but your goggles are safe."

Daxter slumped at the thought. 

"Even if he doesn't want to see me after I get him out. Even if he hates me for taking so long. By tomorrow Jak will be breathing fresh air, free for the first time in two years," his resolve to save Jak was firm despite anxiety. 

Daxter left the store with nothing left to find. He'd been preparing for this day for so long he'd been able to gather up most of the essentials beforehand. A shoulder guard with enough support for a fully grown ottsel to hang from. Soft underwear, very important for comfort and happiness. Everything his friend would need: socks, a sleeping mat, a nail file, a toothbrush, a comb, a backpack to carry all this crap. For the first time in two years Daxter was able to indulge the part of him that loved shopping, and it was good.

He endeavored to spend a little more of his hard earned exterminator's salary in the Haven markets before squirreling everything away to pick up on the way to the safehouse. After parking Betsy, he set about on foot. 

"Two years," he thought again, wandering past a fruit stand. Daxter stopped to buy sweet citrus and soft tree fruit, dried tart berries, and cooked nuts to supplement the packaged rations he'd already stashed away. Jak was always a fiend for any kind of fruit, and Daxter wanted to have food that would make him happy.

Fresh air, fresh fruit, your old pal, and your lost goggles. Tomorrow was going to be a good day for Jak, or Daxter was going to die trying.

-

When Jak sets foot inside the walls of Haven City, free for the first time in two years he's relieved. He's also pissed off and hostile, with a personal vendetta against the most powerful man in the city. The relief is there though and it's powerful.

After defending an old man and some kid from a baron approved massacre, Jak and Daxter are rewarded with directions to a rebel hideout. "The Underground," as it was known was populated entirely by the mysterious and determined, so Jak was a natural fit. 

In the first year of looking for Jak, Daxter had tried approaching the Underground for help, only to find a lot of slammed doors and death threats. He'd like to say no hard feelings, but these guys could've spared the duo of a lot of undue suffering. After seeing even the smallest glimpse of the damage done to Jak in that time, Daxter wasn't going to be handing out free passes to anyone.

The renegades were more selective than they had any right to be, fighting a guerrilla war against the militant powers that be. Their desperation peaked through in the interest they spared on the shabby duo, offering them a chance to prove their worth. Torn, the man handling their recruitment gave them a location, a task, and sent them along hoping to never see them again.

Initiation was in Dead Town, a section of the city lost during decades of metalhead raids. The war forced Haven City to recede into itself, abandoning whole sections and leaving others to rot into slums. They went there right away. 

The job had every tentpole of one of their classic adventures: acrobatics, bloodthirsty beasts, high, high places. It didn't feel anything like those days though. They were too different, and the world wasn't lush and beautiful, it was dying. This was something new, but they were still going to do it together, they earned that.

The gaping horror on Torn's face as the condemned tower collapsed was something of a silver lining to what was in Daxter's opinion, a condescending errand. It's late when they make it back to the city, and when Jak yawns into his hand Daxter convinces him to call it a night. It had been an arduous day for them both.

"Let's steal a zoomer. I usually borrowed a friend of mine's if I needed one, but we're criminals now, buddy. Let's embrace the lifestyle," Jak doesn't laugh, and Daxter doesn't expect him to. They'd get there they just needed time. For as much as he pleaded in the prison for Jak to say something, the silence around him was comforting and familiar. 

They stop to pick up the pack of supplies on the way to the safe house, cautiously ditching the zoomer into some random alley and hoofing the last few blocks on foot. When they arrive the first thing Daxter does is search the place for bugs of any kind.

"See I use to do this for a living, so I know what I'm looking for here. My old boss, Osmo had a, uh, recent and unexpected relocation to another part of the city. I guess he's starting up again, the man loves to kill pests. Good thing too, metalhead bugs are a real health hazard." 

While Daxter chattered Jak made himself busy going through the pack of supplies. When he found candles tucked inside one of the pockets, he set about creating a little light in the room. Without thinking Jak reached for his belt on instinct looking for the matches he usually kept there, surprised to actually find some.

It had been a long time since anyone had been kind to Jak. In the old days, Daxter was his best friend, but he could admit to himself a fear that their time apart and the terrible things he endured irreparably destroyed that. That being cared for, being loved was just one more thing he lost in the baron's prison.

The matches, they're just things, but they meant something to Jak. Daxter remembered he carried matches, that he liked to wear blue. He found his goggles, something he had completely forgotten about until Daxter handed him a stack of clothes with them folded on top. They had been a birthday gift from Keira, and a prized possession and Jak had never told him that, but he knew and he found them. He found him and he was free.

"The poor guy's out his best exterminator now that I've retired from the scene. Which is really a shame, but I left a pretty big mark. I imagine it's a bit like watching an artist walk away from the craft. 'Really? You're leaving this to rob banks for a living?' 

"Well you know, you can only paint so many sunsets. Anyway, all that crap's for you big guy, oh except those," Daxter ran over to Jak, ripping open a bag of nuts that had fallen out of the open pack, "I love these." 

Jak was trembling, sitting on folded legs when Daxter looked over to offer him something to eat.

"What's up, Jak? Are those candles giving you trouble? There should be matches in that belt of yours."

For the first time in a long time, Jak felt his eyes well up with tears, despite his best efforts. Jak had always been an especially silent crier and had it not been for Daxter's alien night vision he probably wouldn't have noticed anything at all. Not sure how to respond, Daxter gave into the instincts telling him to reach out to his friend. Cautiously he placed a paw on Jak's arm.

"Hey, it's okay. You're safe," realizing he'd been caught Jak covered his face and doubled over huffing shaky breaths. He felt embarrassed and childish, but the more he tried to talk himself down the less control he had. Daxter had to fight back his own tears, he'd never been able to watch his friend cry with dry eyes.

The ottsel moved to pet Jak's hair all the while mumbling reassurances. He couldn't keep the tears out of his voice for very long and eventually gave up talking in favor of biting his nails. He leaned his small weight on his friend, unsure what else to do.

Slowly Jak sat up and took his hands away from his face to wrap an arm around his friend and pull him up into a hug. There wasn't anything crushing about the way he held Daxter, instead surrounding him like something fragile and precious. Daxter couldn't resist his desire to cling tightly to Jak in return, effectively communicating a desire to be held. 

After some time Daxter shifted to put a hand into Jak's hair, to scratch his head like he would when they were younger. He felt some tension leave his friend, but kept his hold firm, worried Jak would pull away if he didn't. Jak smelled exactly the same as when they were kids, even after everything. 

Jak slowly was able to stop crying, holding his small friend and being held in return. He felt strange like there was something stuck in his throat. He wasn't use to talking, being able to voice his thoughts beyond writing and as much as he wanted to say something, his jaw was tight. 

Eventually, Daxter relaxed, and they stayed holding each other. Daxter could have fallen asleep right then and there, but his stomach growled so loudly it actually startled him. 

"Ugh, Jak we've gotta eat and sleep. We have another day of death-defying tomorrow," Jak nodded agreement moving to place his friend back on the ground. Instead, the ottsel climbed out of his hands to press a cheek to Jak's, before hopping down in search of a citrus fruit.

They ate by candlelight in companionable silence. 

When they finished their rations and fruit Jak took a candle, the sundry items from the bag, and silently excused himself to the restroom. The water of the shower was still running when Daxter curled up on the bedroll. He was half asleep when for the first time he questioned how much he'd been invading his friend's space all day. Suddenly self-conscious about whether he should stay or offer to sleep somewhere else. 

The creak of the bathroom door snapped him out of his thoughts. With bleary eyes he watched Jak return everything he had taken to the bag before blowing out the candles and crawling over to the bedroll. Daxter started making motions to move out of his way, but Jak laid around him instead. His hair was still wet from the shower, but his skin was soft and warm. He smelled like soap. Daxter curled in closer, pressed his forehead to Jak's, and fell asleep.

That night Jak dreamed of Sandover Village, of sunny beaches and his friend. He dreamed of falling, and of being strapped down and tortured. He woke up with his heart racing and felt Daxter curled up next to him. Tears stung in his eyes for the second time that night, but they were tears of relief. Yesterday hadn't been a dream, after all, it really had happened. 

He sat up and lit a candle, the light helped calm him down and it gave him a sense of control. In prison the lights were automated, turning on and off at the same time day in, day out. He laid back down, still tired but unable to fall back asleep, and watched Daxter dream. The ottsel's legs twitched, and he'd occasionally mumble sounds, not words. 

Jak fought the urge to wake his friend, to ask him to talk until he could fall back asleep. Maybe he'd get there eventually, but for the time being, he couldn't. 

"I want to make it up to you," he thought, "We'll get out of this city, we'll keep looking for a way to turn you back. If you can wait, if you'll stay with me long enough, I'll make it up to you." 

Sunlight began shining through the cracks of the boarded windows, enough light so Jak could comfortably blow out the candle. 

There are three things you do after a fall: collect yourself, gather what you've lost, and find a way back up. Step one would take more time, but Daxter had found him. Years of being locked up, turned into a monster, consumed by a need to kill the man responsible. If Daxter could wait, he'd gather himself, and they'd climb back up together.

**Author's Note:**

> Look here, I want them to kiss just as much as you do, but there's a time and place for that sort of thing. 
> 
> I want to keep writing these, I'm having a good time.


End file.
